


She Wasn’t Going to Cry—The Night After Nate Left Job

by crayonbreakygal



Series: The After Nate Left Jobs [1]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-01
Updated: 2016-04-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 14:47:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6428497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sophie never had a thought about where she was going to stay after she arrived back in Boston.  Takes place right after The Maltese Falcon Job, season two</p>
            </blockquote>





	She Wasn’t Going to Cry—The Night After Nate Left Job

Takes place after The Maltese Falcon Job, season two

She Wasn’t Going to Cry—The Night After Nate Left Job

Sophie never had a thought about where she was going to stay after she arrived in Boston. She’d given up her apartment when she traveled to Europe. Since she wasn’t sure when she’d return, it was best not to fret about sleeping arrangements, much less where she might live.

Nate had no use of his apartment since the bastard had decided, against her better judgment (as brief as it was), to get himself arrested by Sterling of all people. She’d park herself in his apartment until the team could figure a way out of this mess. All the equipment was available for them to plan and Sterling was off their backs because of Nate’s sacrifice.

The place wasn’t much different when she left it months ago. Same set up, same screens, same kitchen, same everything. Everything except Nate, that was. She’d not break down yet, with the other three hovering, wondering what to do next, although it had only been a day since he was taken into custody.

Hardison was keeping an eye on the mastermind through his channels, i.e., hacking into the hospital system to monitor his progress. Gut wounds could be fatal no matter how one would look at it. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to pull her into his arms. With one arm cuffed to the side of the boat, the other had to make sure she didn’t realize that he’d been shot, hence the “come here” phrase. She thought about not complying with his command, because yes it had been a command instead of a question.

“You call me. You tell me you need me, so you can do this?” That still rang in her ears, still ached in her gut, still made her heart beat faster than it should. He was supposed to be waiting for her.

The others cleared out of the space not long after, citing exhaustion. That was clearly what was wrong with her also, because her feet felt like they were made of lead. Hardison set up a passive system so that if there was any change in Nate’s medical status, they all would be alerted. She just wished she could see Nate’s face one more time. Sophie was certain it would be pale, paler than she’d ever seen it.

Cleaning up the kitchen from Eliot's post-con meal frenzy, she stood over the sink and just stared. The silence of the room was deafening. There should be life in this room, she thought. She’d gotten used to Parker’s crunching, Hardison’s jokes, Eliot’s growls, Nate’s groans of either amusement or his sarcasm. None existed now. They’d all splintered, taking off for neutral corners to nurse their wounds, either physical or mental. Nate had taken the fall for all of them, with no say so from any of them. It had hurt, more than he probably realized.

She wasn’t going to cry, she begged herself. That phone call that she couldn’t really hear, the fact that she had to save him from a bullet to the head, came crushing down on her suddenly. Gripping the counter, she finally let out a wail that actually hurt as she did it.

He was gone. He was hurt, and he was gone. Eliot had assured her that he wouldn’t stay gone for long. They’d plan and break him out, one way or another. But he had to heal before that. Sophie had wanted to beg Eliot that instant that they had to go after him, steal him away while he was in the hospital, but Eliot had refused, knowing that Nate was hurt badly. She and Parker had argued with him, but Sophie knew in the end that it couldn’t happen. They needed to lie low, let Sterling fade away into the woodwork, and plan their method of attack.

Nate had to testify for all this to work also. If he didn’t, Sterling would show up at their doors. It wasn’t a good plan, but it was Nate’s dumbass plan, so she had to honor it, at least for the time being.

Letting go of the counter, she stumbled across the room, to the stairs. Her mind was so jumbled, she didn’t think she’d make it up those damn winding stairs that Hardison had put in the middle of the room when he had bought the building. Grabbing the railing, she slipped her shoes off and slowly made her way, taking each step carefully so she wouldn’t fall. It wouldn't be good to break her neck before she sprung Nate out. He’d be angry.

Her face was wet and eyes were swollen when she saw herself in the mirror of the bathroom. She’d been awake for over twenty-four hours. Surprise that she didn’t look worse was a bit ironic. Running the water, she dipped a washcloth under the stream, wringing it out methodically. Wiping her face gently, she realized that was all she had the energy for. Glancing around the room, she saw all the everyday, regular things that Nate used. His toothpaste, cologne, towel draped haphazardly over the rack, socks scattered on the floor. As she pushed the door shut a bit, she noticed his pajamas hung on the back. Pulling them to her, she sank into the comfort of the smell of him. She could always count on his smell. He always smelled the same, from the day she met him, to the day when she left him. He must use the same shampoo, the same soap, the same cologne as he did more than ten years ago. A creature of habit he was.

Grabbing the pants, she made her way into his bedroom. The bed looked like it had been slept in recently. He never made his bed. She always did. It comforted her to perform that task every day. He couldn’t be bothered with such a mundane task. Stripping off her clothing, she dropped them to the floor, not caring about wrinkling. Her body couldn’t take much more. Pulling open a dresser drawer, she found a t-shirt of Nate’s. The pants that were in the bathroom went on next. She liked the feeling of the cotton on her legs. The t-shirt had been well worn, nothing like the silk she usually wore when she slept.

Unhooking her bra, she let it fall to the floor too, knowing that at some point, she’d have to clean up the messiness that she had created in addition to Nate’s. Climbing onto the bed, she sighed as she wrapped herself up in his scent. She’d often dreamed what it would be like to wake up to him, his curls every which way, his warmth. That had never happened. Maybe, just maybe after all this was done, she’d lead him up to this bed and get her wish. If that kiss was any indication, then maybe he’d actually follow through.

The tears started to flow again when she realized that it would take much longer than she wanted to wait to get him back. The healing, the trial, the planning would take much longer than she was probably willing to wait. Hell, she had waited over ten years (over twelve, but who was counting) to have him in her arms. She’d do anything, short of stringing Sterling up by his fingers, to get him next to her again.

Grabbing the pillow next to her, she sank into it, hugging it to her body while the tears would not stop. She’d get that out of her system so the rest of them wouldn’t see her cry. She was afraid that if she did cry in front of them, they’d either start crying with her, or do everything in their power to make her stop. Parker would pat her head or smell her hair (she really needed to tell Parker to stop that). Eliot’s eyes would soften or he’d start yelling about how stupid Nate was and that his planning was for shit. Hardison would stammer, not knowing whether he should hug her or hug Eliot. He was so touchy feely for a large man. Not that she minded. The rest of the group was not touchy feely at all, especially Parker. Sometimes she felt sorry for him because she could see that all he wanted was to be a part of the group.

As her eyes drifted shut, she hugged the pillow even tighter, wishing that it were Nate instead of a pillow. It smelled like him, so that was a bit of comfort. She’d rest and then awake refreshed so that they could start their planning in earnest.

Her dreams consisted of Nate and how many times he’d been shot in front of her. So many times he had died clutching her hand, saying that they never had enough time to say the things she wished they’d say outright. She’d beg him to stay with her, then his eyes would slowly close and that would be it. She awoke with a rush the last time he died in her arms because it was on that ship.

How long had she been asleep? Looking over at the alarm clock, it said 4:00am. So she’d been upstairs for almost ten hours. She didn’t feel rested though. Those dreams had taken a toll on her. Slowly getting out of bed, she made her way downstairs to get a cup of tea to see if it helped getting her back to sleep.

She sensed that she wasn’t alone as she worked her way down the stairs, being careful since it was dark.

“Sophie?” the small voice called out.

Parker. It was Parker. Thank goodness. She didn’t have the strength to fight off any intruders, much less anything else at the moment.

“Parker, sweetie. Why are you here?”

Parker popped up from the sofa, face in shadow as Sophie made her way over.

“I just, I couldn’t sleep so I came over here. He’s not here. He sometimes would stay up with me. I thought that if I came over, then maybe all that happened was a dream and he’d be here.”

Sophie hadn’t realized that maybe the team had been more affected than she realized. She’d been away for some time. Relationships may have changed, she thought. They’d have to cling to one another a bit more since she wasn’t there.

“Here, let me make some tea. I couldn’t sleep anymore either. I had the strangest dreams.”

Parker made her way over to the kitchen. As she saw the thief’s face in the moonlight that was streaming in, she noticed how young and vulnerable she looked without her makeup. Parker was young, that Sophie knew. She never looked vulnerable though. Only a few times had she actually seen the young woman even look scared, much less vulnerable.

Putting some water into the kettle, Sophie looked into the cabinet for the tea leaves. Parker had made her way into the kitchen, stepping close to Sophie. Sophie always wondered what drew Parker to do the things she did. She wasn’t a hugger or a snuggler. The only one she’d take hugs from was Eliot, which was a bit strange, but Sophie took it as a sign that she was more comfortable around the four of them when she’d occasionally pat their heads or hold their hands for a moment of time. And the smelling of Sophie’s hair. Where had she picked that habit up?

Sophie felt Parker up close, smelling her hair yet again.

“You smell different,” Parker declared.

“Um, really?”

What else could she say?

“You smell like Nate and Sophie all rolled up into one.”

Sophie got it finally when she realized that she had Nate’s clothes on. And the fact that she had just slept in his bed, alone.

“Yes, Parker. I suppose I do.”

“I like it.”

Sophie laughed a little at Parker. Parker was such a strange bird, often giving you the honest truth, whether you wanted to hear it or not.

“I do too.”

Parker grinned her way, opening the refrigerator and grabbing the milk.

They both puttered around the kitchen, never turning on a light as they did. It was light enough from the moon and the streetlight outside. As Parker crunched and Sophie sipped, they stayed silent until Parker shifted in her seat.

“Parker, is there something you need? Something you want to talk about?”

“I was mad at you.”

“Oh. Go on.”

“I’m not mad at you anymore, well, not so mad. Now I’m mad at Nate.”

That’s her Parker, short and to the point.

“Why, Parker?”

“Because he went away, or he’s going away. You went away too.”

Too many people went away in Parker’s life. It wasn’t fair to her at all.

“Parker, I cannot promise you that I’ll never go away again, but I will make sure that you always know where I am. I’m not going away anytime soon though. We have a job to do.”

“Yeah, the break Nate out of jail because he’s an asshole job.”

Sophie snickered at the thief’s naming of the job.

“Let’s go steal a Nate?”

Parker laughed in return. “Hardison told me he once said that he was going to steal me.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, one of those times I vanished for a few days. Nate read me the riot act about going out by myself. Geez. Not like I was going to steal the Hope Diamond or something.”

“Or something,” Sophie answered back.

Parker smiled her way.

Sophie could feel that she had not had enough sleep, but talking with Parker was more important.

“Come on,” Parker urged the grifter.

“Ok. Come on where?” Sophie was intrigued.

“I wanna go smell like Nate too.”

Sophie didn’t understand until Parker led her up the stairs. Without a thought to what she was doing, the two of them climbed back onto the bed, Parker on one side, her on another.

“No kicking, Parker,” Sophie whispered.

“I don’t kick. Hardison? A kicker.”

“How about Eliot?”

“Oh my god, he’s a snuggler.”

Sophie laughed a little at that image in her head. It didn’t take long for Parker’s breathing to even out. Sophie knew she was asleep finally when she rolled over to see that her eyes were closed.

Breathing in Nate’s scent one more time, Sophie finally drifted off to sleep once more, dreams now of Nate smiling, Parker laughing, Hardison complaining and Eliot growling.


End file.
